


bittersweet

by cinnabun



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Chara, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 06:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12953250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnabun/pseuds/cinnabun
Summary: They're your soulmate. And you meet them at a coffee-shop. It seems like the perfect set-up for a bunch of rom-com scenarios and hijinks. So why are they so determined on making this so difficult?(2K One-Shot - Chara/Reader, SOULmate/Coffee-Shop AU: a gift for a dear continuous reader/fan, for whom I am so very thankful)





	bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Adult Frisk/Chara/Asriel SOULmate-Based Headcanons](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/343806) by cinnabun/Mod-Mellow. 



> Thank you so much to the person this is dedicated to! You know who you are, & I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! ❤

* * *

 ❤ ❤ ❤

* * *

They keep fiddling with the string on their wrist.

You can’t help but notice, because with each little scrape or tug they give, you feel your own arm being dragged a bit in tandem. Not that it bothers you, really, but it’s enough to keep your attention. They keep glancing your way as well, the sharpness of their crimson stare making the hair on the back of your neck stand. It’s so  _intense_.

It’s not like they’re bad-looking, that’s not the problem. Their cheeks seem permanently stained with a bright pink flush, their hair pulled up into a very short bun of cocoa brown curls. It’s a very formal, put-together look they have going on. Something business-like. You can only imagine what kind of person they are, who they could be. How they would react if you were to walk over, take the seat across from them.

The other thing you notice is their smile. It’s emotionless, almost plastic. Practiced, like that of a politician knowing their going to run into any number of important people throughout the day. It’s so uncanny that it makes you shiver a little.

Their stare is a different story. It’s judging, curious, and almost nervous. Finally, their nails move from scratching at the knot tied around their wrist, and they look away from you. Eyes dipping down as if the cup of coffee in front of them suddenly became extremely interesting. You can’t help but wonder what kind of coffee they like. They seem like a “straight black” person, but then they surprise you by grabbing a handful of sugar packets and dumping them one after the other into their still steaming cup. Then pouring what must be nearly half the container of cream after it.

Ah, a sweet-tooth type, huh? Cute.

The itch to approach them nagged at you until you finally gave in. It wasn’t until you stood up that you saw them stand too. So, you sat down, waiting to see if they were getting up to leave. But the moment you landed back in the seat, so did they. Confused, you stood again. So did they. You sat. They did too.

You repeated this cycle several times before you realized what they were doing.

They could see you in the reflection of the café’s window, and were attempting to avoid you by matching your movements. If you got too close, you felt, they’d try to bolt. Shy, too, huh? You hoped you hadn’t made them uncomfortable. All you wanted was to try to say hi, and introduce yourself. But from the way their hands were gripping their cup, so deeply that you could see the plastic denting, you knew it was going to be a tough attempt.

Apparently, the barista behind the counter had been snooping a little, because she tapped you on the shoulder. When you turned to look at her, she tapped your wrist, then nudged her head towards where your supposed “SOULmate” was sitting. You could feel your cheeks warm as you nodded back, feeling ashamed that this was so obvious. And tough. Out of everyone in the world you could have ended up with, it was with someone who was obviously trying to avoid you. For god knows what reason, because you hadn’t even introduced yourself yet!

She seemed to take pity on you, because suddenly, she winked, grasped a container of chocolate sauce from behind the counter, and made a beeline for your SOULmate’s table. As she offered it to them, like some sort of generous donation to help make their day even sweeter, you could tell what she was doing. With them partially preoccupied, it gave you just enough time to quickly slip into the booth across from them. The sweet-toothed sweetheart, so preoccupied with getting as much of their fill of sugar as they possibly could, didn’t even notice you until they turned to raise the drink to their lips.

You expected them to jump, maybe even scream a little. But instead they just tightened their grip on the cup, sloshing a bit of steaming drink down the sides and onto their fingers. The only real reaction you got out of them was a quick close of the eyes as they mumbled a soft “Ah” of understanding, in a tone sounded like betrayal. Tricked (and subsequently trapped) by their own confectionary cravings. But at least it gave  _you_  a chance to say “hello,” or something like that, so it wasn’t that bad, was it?

Their smile hasn’t budged an inch, but their eyes pinned you in place. You felt like a bird trapped in the gaze of a snake, frozen and kind-of frightened. Your tongue weighed in your mouth, but you still tried to say something—anything—to relieve the tension. Before you can even get a mere syllable out, however, they’re already ahead of you.

“I do not like humanity.” They begin, catching you so off-guard that your greeting (and everything that would have followed) gets thrown directly out the window. “I have never been a fan of humans and their kind. I have spent my entire life hoping, dreaming, that the string on my arm would lead to a dead-end, or if I were cursed to spend my existence with someone, that it would at least be of a species-preference. Not that I am so desperate as my companion as to flirt with nearly every member of Monsterkind that I meet.”

They tilt their head, gaze narrowing. “Yet here we are.”

There’s a rasp in their voice, and you can’t quite tell if they’re more male or feminine. Really, it doesn’t matter to you, because they’re not giving you a chance to speak anyway. “Before you ask, yes, I am Chara Dreemurr, sibling to the heir of the Dreemurr throne, Asriel Dreemurr, and companion to the Ambassador of Monsterkind, Frisk Hoepful.”

You hadn’t even realized, but then it’s like a light-bulb going off in your head. No wonder you recognized them! “O-Oh,” you stutter out, “I hadn’t even noticed…”

“If what you are expecting is a relationship like the ones they advertise so frequently, you are sorely mistaken here.” They take a long swig of their drink, not moving to clean the coffee from their fingers. You fight your instincts to offer them a napkin. “I am not a good person…to my core. It’s something I’ve known for a long time now. I have many faults. And I accept them all. I have committed atrocities in my past that you could never comprehend…I have done things that would leave most humans mentally broken. I have survived more than you could ever believe. I am not a weak person. Or someone easy to get along with. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”

Their words halt oddly, as if they’re testing each sentence fragment before they say it. It just makes them more enigmatic, and you can’t help but realize it’s drawing you more to them. They’re interesting. You…you like that about them.

“Yes.” You say simply. “You’re not a perfect person. Neither am I. I don’t think there’s a single person on this planet who hasn’t done at least one thing they don’t regret. Humanity isn’t inherently made of good people, but it doesn’t mean we don’t have the ability to try to get better, right? At least,” you scratch awkwardly at your own cup, watching the steam float up and away, “that’s how I’ve always thought about it. Maybe I’m just too hopeful?”

“You seem the type.” They sigh, closing their eyes again. You see the smile soften a bit. “I always do end up with the soft ones, it seems.”

You jolt a little when they suddenly set their cup aside, and finally reach for the napkin dispenser. As they clean the sticky from their fingers, they stare you, directly in the eyes, as if searching for something while they speak. “I am not sure what you want from me, but I can promise you that whatever it is, I cannot give it to you. I do not understand relationships in the way many of our… _age_ , would. Romance is foreign to me. I do not like touch. I am not good with comfort. I break more than I fix. I am more broken than I am repaired.”

The way they say “age” makes you even more curious, but you steel your nerves and nod. “Isn’t everybody, really? We all have our problems, there’s no competition here. There’s reason relationships are usually built on friendships and trust. It’s not like what they show on tv or in books. Love at first sight might be nice in theory but—listen, I’m not asking you to start dating me off the bat. But I want to get to know you, Chara. To just…give me a chance. We might not even end up together, but…would you like to come here again some other time? We could order a nice lunch, talk a little more. Just…try to get to know each other a little bit better.”

Maybe it’s the earnest tone as you speak. Maybe it’s because you refuse to break eye contact with them. Maybe it’s because you smile back at the end of your own little spiel. But something seems to get through to them, in a way. “You are determined to see this arrangement through.”

You nod.

Chara’s smile finally breaks, a serious, thin line crossing their lips as they reach for the dispenser again. You move to help them, in case there’s anything left on the table, when you realize they’re not mopping up anything at all. They pull a pen from behind their ear—one you hadn’t even realized was there, tucked under their bun, and scribble something onto a napkin. Satisfied, they fold it and slide it across the table to you. “My number is written on this. Text me this evening, so we may discuss this situation more. Do not text me between the hours of five o’clock and six o’clock, however, as I am preoccupied at those times. I will let you know if anything comes up.”

When you take it, they lean to fold their hands under their chin. “Consider this a chance to prove yourself to me. Show me you have what it takes to impress me. If you wish, that is. If not, that is also understandable. Either way.”

You nod again, tucking the napkin carefully into your pocket. “I’ll, uh, hear from you then. Or, you’ll hear from me. Do you want me to bring anything next time we meet? Uh, a gift or something?”

They regard you as their smile returns to place, looking you up and down for a moment. “A gift is unnecessary, but. Chocolate would be appreciated. Name-brand, preferably.”

The mental note to pick up a Hershey’s for your next—and possibly first, because this felt more like a half-date than anything—meeting, slipped into the back of your mind. You’d do them even better than that. Would it be going too far to bring a bag of Hershey’s kisses? They did say they had a friend who liked to flirt, maybe they’d appreciate the joke? Or maybe not. They didn’t seem the type with a sense of humor.

“Alright, we’ll meet then. I’ll talk to you later, then. And um, Chara.” They pause, briefly, glancing at you as they lean over to grab their cup. “Thanks for giving me a chance. This chance. Any chance. I really hope we can get along. As friends. Or whatever works, really. I’m just…”

You smile, finally, genuine and excitedly. “I’m happy to finally meet you.”

Pink dips red briefly, and you swear for a moment that they look caught off-guard. But then you blink, and their monotone expression is back in place. “So be it, then. This meeting was one of fate after all.”

They tug at the string on their wrist again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you…partner.”

* * *

 ❤ ❤ ❤

* * *

 


End file.
